


The Wrong First Time

by hunted



Series: Original Works [29]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adult Characters (Aged 21 or Older), Age Difference, Alcohol, Bathroom Sex, Begging, Bodily Fluids, Caught, Clothed Sex, Come as Lube, Creampie, Dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Don't Like Don't Read, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time, Forced, Forced Orgasm, Forced Pregnancy, Gay Bar, Gay Sex, Hand Over Mouth, Impregnation, Intoxication, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Manhandling, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Not Beta Read, Older Man/Younger Man, Penetration (Front Hole Sex), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sex Club, Sexual Frustration, Smut, Stranger Sex, Trans Male Character, Unsafe Sex, Virginity, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26561896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunted/pseuds/hunted
Summary: A trans guy gets fucked in a toilet stall....All warnings are tagged. Please read the notes. The author is a trans man.Do not re-upload this work elsewhere. I do not give permission for my writing to be copied.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Original Works [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1480958
Comments: 4
Kudos: 308





	The Wrong First Time

**Author's Note:**

> **I do not condone sexual assault.** This story contains AFAB language which may trigger gender dysphoria, notably the words c*nt and cl*t, so please do not read on if you will be distressed.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> People of all orientations and genders have sexual fantasies. Certain trans men having masochistic inclinations does not mean a man would ever want to be mistreated outside of roleplay. People who have rape fantasies do not actually want to be raped, nor would the experience of being sexually assaulted be anything like a person's fantasy. In reality, rape is traumatising, exhausting, and debilitating, and I am not disregarding the seriousness of those experiences. The imagined kink of dubious or unconsenting sex draws on an arousing powerlessness which is entirely within a person's control. Without safewords, prior discussion, and mutual consent, rough sex can potentially be dangerous or traumatising. Always remember that fantasies do not equal reality.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> Please see [this article](https://metro.co.uk/2017/11/29/why-do-half-of-women-have-fantasies-about-being-raped-7099630/) to learn more about the fantasies of cis women. (Obviously trans men are not women, but most sexual fantasy articles are unfortunately cishet-focussed.) If you are drawn to rough sexual fantasies as a survivor of sexual assault, give [this article](https://www.vice.com/en_au/article/3k5gey/when-rape-survivors-have-rape-antasies) a read. To learn more about characterising trans men appropriately, please see [this guide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20475404). Just because I write FTM smut doesn't mean I condone the infantilisation and fetishisation of trans guys. I also write top trans men, as seen in [this story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22857451/chapters/54631726), [this story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21667837), and [this story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26079508/chapters/63431953). Not all trans men are bottoms. Not all trans men are gay.  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> If you experience sadistic inclinations which propel you to hurt people without their consent, then exit this tab, go find a therapist, and seek help. Fantasies are not reality, and the existence of _healthy_ BDSM is no excuse to rape. The existence of kinky trans men is not an excuse to treat trans guys as a fetish. Any justifications you are hiding behind need to be challenged in a clinical setting. Good luck, and fuck off.

This club wasn’t the sort of place that Ian usually frequented, especially not alone. They didn’t ask too many questions here, didn’t raise eyebrows at many things. You could buy _anything_ if you had enough cash on hand. The corners of the club were populated by nameless individuals with quick palms, sly smiles, and connections that yielded sealed plastic bags and indulgences of the flesh. Flashing lights and hot darkness blanketed crowds of moving bodies, and any illegal activity was masked by the sheer debauchery of it all. Men gyrated and grabbed, leather and sweat-slick skin revealed in snatches of colour, wet mouths slotting easily together as tiny pills loosened standards and morals. This was a place for animals, for hungry beasts. This was the kind of club that had replaced dark rooms, all the attendees on PrEP now, smarter but still flirting recklessly with danger.

Ian wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Why he had come here. He went to the bar, ordered a rum and coke, sat and drank it. His heart was hammering in his chest, body thrumming with the excitement and nervousness of new experiences. His friends were great. He loved hanging out with them. He loved dating, too. He liked the apps, but they weren’t right for him. He overthought everything. He never took relationships as far as he wanted them to go. Tonight, he was hoping to tear the band-aid off. He was hoping for anything and everything. He had worn a button-down shirt, open down to his sternum, chest flat and unremarkable aside from some puckered scar tissue around the outside of his areolas. He also wore tight shorts that hugged his ass and revealed furred thighs, a favourite quality now that he had reached a comfortable place in his medical transition. They made him feel sexy. He hoped that someone would notice him, would look his way, past all the other juicy pieces of meat who had come to be sampled.

Thirty minutes passed, and then a full hour. He didn’t drink too much, kept himself on the edge of being tipsy, pleasantly warm but not too far gone that he’d be putting himself in danger. He watched people dancing, too afraid to stand up and join them. He played the occasional game on his phone, did some messaging, lost himself in the booze. At some point, he considered that he may have crossed the line into drinking too much, but his perspective was skewed, so he ordered another glass anyway.

The bartender leaned over to him as they slid his drink across the bar. Ian had to tilt his head in their direction to hear them yelling over the music.

“You gonna just sit here and drink?”

Ian leaned back into his seat, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. His inexperience was showing. He shrugged, not bothering to try yelling over all the noise. The bartender shrugged back and continued preparing other people’s drinks. Ian sipped at his rum and coke miserably, irritated at himself now. He was so socially awkward. It was killing him. All his frustration was being magnified by the alcohol, bursts of heat humming below his skin, anger roiling in his gut. Not anger at anybody else. Just anger at his goddamn situation. All he wanted was to get up and dance, but he felt that he couldn’t. All he wanted was to fuck someone. He saw television shows where people did that, where they lived freely and with wild passion- he saw his _friends_ doing that, had to listen to their stories and pretend to be supportive, and not bitterly jealous. His life wasn’t that simple. It had never been that simple.

Some of his trans male friends empathised with him, but even they had found partners that loved and fucked them. Ian wasn’t sure what he was doing wrong. Maybe his luck was just absolutely shit. He tried to stay positive but, like any relentlessly single man, sometimes the misery just got to him.

Being trans sucked sometimes.

Discouraged, he decided that tonight had gone on long enough. This had been a doomed effort from the start. Nobody was going to swoop in and rescue him from the monotony of sitting on his ass, and he was too chickenshit to take a risk. All of these chiselled gays knew what they were looking for, and they generally found it within seconds of crossing the threshold, locking onto the nearest male model-type that they could find. He tipped his head back and downed his drink, swallowing it smoothly. Without looking a second time at the bartender, he stood from his chair and dove into the dancing crowds, pushing his way through undulating bodies in the direction of the toilets. A quick piss, then he’d take the train home.

The male bathroom was, as expected, a fucking dump. Walls plastered with graffiti and half-torn posters, dicks scrawled on every surface, the stench of urine sharpening the air. _ARCHIE LOVES FAT COCKS,_ read one particularly mature scrawl, a phone number scribbled beneath that declaration. Ian sighed, willing to bet 'Archie' had left that honeypot there himself. He didn’t miss masquerading as a woman, but chicks did have cleaner toilets. Then again, what could he expect from a dubiously legal sex club? The stench of bodily fluids and chemicals was all but guaranteed.

Thankfully, this place had stalls. He went into one, and noticed it didn’t have a lock. Groaning, he checked the second one, only to see a toilet which looked to have been smeared with shit, to an extent so obscene that it was surely intentional.

“Typical,” he muttered, returning to the first stall. He wiped the seat down with some toilet paper, cast one last disappointed look about the derelict stall, then decided beggars couldn’t be choosers. His STP was too shit to bother bringing, so he was generally left in this position. He swung the door closed, and it mainly stayed that way, aside from a crack of space. It would have to do. He unzipped his shorts and sat on the porcelain seat.

Depressed, his last gulp of alcohol pumping through him like liquid heat, he gazed mournfully at some crude graffiti on the inside of the stall door. Wet sounds hit the air as he started pissing. He wondered if life would ever get more exciting, or whether he was doomed to end his days as a lonely, tired man in an empty house.

The door to the bathroom burst open, followed immediately by heavy footsteps. Ian was just opening his mouth to announce his presence, when his stall door moved.

It swung open.

A man stood in the stall doorway, blinking uncomprehendingly at him. Ian’s first instinct was to cover himself, hands flying down to obscure his groin from view, but it was too late. The man’s alcohol-glazed eyes were fixed in place. He had seen Ian’s secret.

“Hey, fuck off,” Ian told him, voice unsteady.

The man didn’t budge. He looked up at Ian’s face, their eyes meeting. He wore a leather jacket and jeans. He had grey hair and heavy-lidded eyes, expression drugged by booze. Music thudded through the walls, flavouring their silence. Ian felt the spark of arousal return, spiced by fear. Despite himself, he found the stranger attractive, even though he was surely half this man's age. He knew he could stand up and plant his fist between this guy’s eyes, if he wanted to. He had done it before. So what he did next surprised even him, because the decision was instant and impulsive. The moment he did it, he regretted it.

Slowly, he moved his hands away from his groin. Exposing himself.

The man looked down again, and Ian’s face burned, just knowing he was being seen so intimately, fully aware of the invitation he had just condemned himself to giving. The man reached behind him and slowly swung the stall door closed again, eyes not leaving Ian’s body. Ian trembled, heart pounding in his chest.

“What’s- What’s your name?”

The man didn’t answer. He crossed the space between them, reached down towards Ian. Thinking the stranger wanted a kiss, Ian inclined his face upward, but was surprised when the man grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. Then, he stood Ian against one of the stall walls, hand in the middle of his back. Shocked into obedience, the boy did what was expected, turning his head to press his cheek against the graffiti-covered surface. He was hardly able to believe this was happening. Noise was roaring in his ears, pulse propelled by need and panic. He’d never had sex before. He was a virgin. He was about to be fucked by a complete stranger in a toilet stall. He was scared.

He heard the metallic jerk of a zipper.

“I’m a virgin,” he blurted.

He felt like the man needed to know, felt like the announcement would earn him some softness, some consideration for his inexperience. There was a pause behind him, and for a split second, Ian felt relief, assuming the stranger's hesitation was an indication of wavering intent. Then, to his horror, he heard a rushed inhalation. As if the man were excited by that announcement. He was _turned on_ by it. Ian didn’t know what reaction he’d expected, but the eagerness seemed perverse, frightening.

"Please be- Can you be gentle?"

He felt something poke him from behind. His immediate reaction was disbelief; surely the stranger wasn't trying to penetrate him this fast. Before he could react, before he could say or do anything more, the man was shoving inside him. Ian cried out as the head pushed abruptly past the initial tightness of his cunt, a mild flare of pain accompanying the sensation of being so suddenly violated. He squeezed his eyes shut, cheek smushed up against the stall wall, mouth open wide as he wailed.

“Wait,” Ian tried to say, but groaned instead as the man pushed deeper inside, his girth filling Ian so perfectly, thickness dragging against the tightness of young, virgin walls.

“Wait, I changed- I changed my mind-” he pleaded, but the man didn’t listen. Ian wasn’t sure whether he actually wanted the guy to pay attention to his demands, but he struggled nonetheless, hands flailing backward to try and push the stranger off him.

"Stop it- Take it out-"

They tussled for a short few moments. His arms were eventually pinned against his body, the bigger man wrapping him in a tight hug, keeping him trapped in place.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “Fuck, _wait_ -”

He panted heavily as the man continued to push inside, wondering if this was rape, wondering why he enjoyed it so much. His protests were breathless and feeble, and he was ashamed to admit he was aroused by his own helplessness, by the visceral knowledge that he was going to have sex, right here and right now, whether he liked it or not. Within no time at all, Ian was boneless and shaking, impaled on the first cock he’d ever taken, pressed up against a wall by a complete stranger, cock buried in him up to the hilt. He felt the fabric of leather and denim against his back. His cunt was so full. That part of him which he had hidden for so many years, which caused such dysphoria, was being so brutally violated. Ian felt hot, like he was burning up, dizzy from the intensity of everything. It all felt so... _intimate_. His clit throbbed.

The older man still hadn’t spoken. Ian couldn’t see his face, but the breaths on the back of his neck were even and steady, which made him feel even more helpless by comparison. His whole world was fragmented and broken, the room a blur of alcohol and terrified arousal.

“Please,” Ian whimpered, not sure what he was asking for, overwhelmed by the fact that this was really happening, that he was being fucked.

The man drew his hips back incrementally, and Ian– sensing what would come next– felt a flare of panic in his gut.

“Wait- Wait, no, _don’t_ -”

The man shoved back inside him, slamming deep this time, faster than before. The boy cried out, the helplessness of his yell lost to the thumping of music. He struggled again. The man ignored him and started to grind his hips forward and back.

“F- Fuck, fuck- fuck, wait, wait-”

The stranger didn’t even bother replying, didn’t pause in his motions. Every inward thrust earned him a gasping protest from Ian, but he continued on, heedless. Ian felt his breaths hotly condensing against the wall, his cheek slick with sweat from the packed nightclub, his vision blurry from panic. This was rape. He was being raped. So why did he enjoy it? Was it the alcohol? Dizzy and bleary-eyed, he figured that it must be. He was still drunk.

“Uh, uh, _uh_ ,” Ian heard himself moan, “St- _Stop_ -”

The man seemed to thrust faster, as though spurred on by Ian’s refusal, as excited by Ian’s fear as he had been by the knowledge that he was about to deflower a trans boy. Ian’s cunt squelched with every thrust, his enjoyment more than evident. His body was jolted where he stood, and for a reason he couldn’t name, he went limp, hands hanging helplessly as the man fucked him harder and harder. He knew he should fight back more, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t. There was a place deep inside him, a place which had previously gone untouched, that a cock was now pounding mercilessly against. He felt like he was being impaled, like nothing bigger could ever fit. He was so overwhelmed. What chance did he, a celibate virgin, have against this magnitude of an experience? He was numb from the intensity of it all, unable to fight back against something so profound.

It went on.

And on.

And on.

The nightclub oscillated between pounding noise and brief moments of silence as the DJ switched between songs. Ian lost count of how many tracks played while he was being raped in the toilet stall. The man behind him showed no sign of stopping. It felt so good, and he was so afraid of it, so terrified and aroused by the mercilessness with which he was being taken, up against this wall. He hated every second of this, hated the unyielding grip which forced him to submit, hated the way his cheekbone collided with the wall, body rocked violently. He continued to moan, wondering why the fuck he wasn’t fighting back more, wondering why he was allowing this to happen to him. He was scared of the wetness overflowing from his body. He wasn’t on birth control. He was on Testosterone, but that wasn’t a guarantee of anything.

He heard the bathroom door swing open, a group of men entering. His lips parted, but before he could yell for help, the man behind him slapped a hand over his mouth, palm silencing Ian's plea.

"Mmmm- Mmmm!"

The man held onto his face with an unyielding grip, continuing to pound into his cunt. To Ian's horror, the stall door swung open, three drunk men staring at them. He wondered what he looked like. A teary-eyed boy, shorts around his ankles, being fucked against the wall. 

"Mmm! Mmm!"

He tried to thrash free, tried to beg for their help, but the men seemed unconcerned with his distress. Their eyes narrowed in heady, sultry desire.

"What a slut," one of them muttered.

 _No, no,_ Ian wanted to cry, _I'm not, please make him stop, please-_

"Let's go, this room's taken."

_No! No! Don't leave me! Stop!_

They left, the bathroom door slamming shut behind them.

"Mmm- mm- hhmmh...!" Ian's muffled cries were panicked now, mournful. He squeezed his eyes shut again, wishing this would end, aroused despite the injustice of it all. The stranger huffed against Ian's neck, chuckling hotly, clearly revelling in his victory. He thrust even harder now, driving upward and deep, slamming inside Ian's body like a man possessed by demonic forces, like an animal jerking its hips into the body of a pinned mate. Tears dripped from Ian's eyes now, trailing down his cheeks. With the departure of the witnesses, he felt truly condemned to suffering this experience.

With the hand that wasn't keeping him silent, the man reached down and shoved his hand between Ian's body and the wall, fingers pushing past his hip, wandering between his legs.

Ian managed to jerk his head to the side fast enough to free his mouth, gasping, flailing to try and push the man's hand away.

"No, don't- please don't touch it-"

The man seized his mouth again and, ignoring his plea, pressed two fingers roughly against his clit. Ian trembled, revulsion and unwilling arousal shuddering through him like an electric shock, quivers building from his waist to his head and his toes, wobbly ankles making him stagger in place. The man continued to fuck him, dick sliding in and out of his cunt, sparks of pleasure forcing a conclusion that Ian had so desperately wished to prevent. He sobbed, giving in though he wished to continue fighting, clenching his fists against the wall and praying that he wouldn't get pregnant.

He yelled into the man's palm, muffled as his orgasm peaked and then crashed down in a brutal wave of sensation. The man grunted as Ian clenched around his cock, and spoke his first words since this had all began.

"Fuck yeah, gonna come inside you, gonna come inside your cunt."

Ian was broken and loose-limbed, mind made rubbery and incoherent by the intensity of it all, but he still wailed in protest as the man thrust up inside him, one, two, three times, slamming so hard that Ian was sure he would shatter.

"Fuck, fuck! Fuck, yeah, take it, take it all inside you!"

The stranger filled him up, warm pulses of come shooting inside the deepest parts of Ian's body. The man groaned against his neck, hips jerking, forehead against the back of Ian's head, inhaling the scent of his hair.

He pulled out, leaving a horrid, wet emptiness inside Ian, that made him shiver and cry. He fell to the floor, knees unsteady. The man zipped up, and without a single word, walked out.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Here's an edit, because I forgot to add this info initially... A lot of fantasy stories (including this one) depict spontaneous, un-lubricated sex as being without consequence or serious pain. But this is not realistic to the effects of Testosterone on the genitals. If you're AFAB, whether non-binary or trans male, you need to take care of your anatomy. Sex without appropriate loosening, lube, and foreplay can potentially be severely damaging. Please see [this article](https://www.sfaf.org/collections/beta/qa-gynecologic-and-vaginal-care-for-trans-men/) and [this page](https://transcare.ucsf.edu/guidelines/pain-transmen) for more information about atrophy when undergoing hormone replacement therapy. Please see [this post](https://ftmark.wordpress.com/2012/11/02/how-to-have-sex-with-a-transman/) and [this article](https://www.advocate.com/sexy-beast/2018/8/08/16-things-i-learned-having-sex-trans-men) for information about having sex with trans men. Lots of lube means lots of satisfaction, as dryness and tightness is a common side-effect of Testosterone. @ cis men who want to penetrate trans men during sex: take care not to assume that a trans man will want this (many of us don't wish to be penetrated), and don't hurt the guy if he does consent to being penetrated. It is very easy to damage the vaginal wall.  
> 


End file.
